The Night of the Impossible Choice
by KayValo87
Summary: Did you ever wonder what goes through an undercover agent's mind when instructed to kill their best friend?
1. Chapter 1

Soooo, I've never done a vignette before - and honestly never thought I would - but after watching "The Night of the Skulls" the other day and "The Night the Dragon Screamed" tonight, I just had to wonder how the boys feel about getting asked - repeatedly - to kill their partner.

My first idea was to do a tag to each of the episodes where it happen, but that would require going through the entire series to find each scene. Instead I typed this up around 1am when I _really_ should have been in bed and decided to post it without a beta - so I wouldn't have time to change my mind. (I am dyslexic and read over this about 6 times to catch anything I could, so please keep that in mind before pointing out any errors.)

 **DISCLAIMER:** I am a broke college student, I couldn't afford to buy Jim's boot much less the rights to the show.

Enjoy ...

* * *

"We take a dim view of spies," Captain Daley stated, scowling at his prisoner before turning around with a devilish smile. "It appears I will be able to see your handiwork after all."

The leader of the smuggling ring handed Jim a gun and stepped back to give him a clear shot. The agent looked from the gun to the man who had been forced to his knees before him. Past the blond wig and fake scar, his partner stared back.

Of all the aspects of his job, it was these moments he hated the most: facing the choice to kill his best friend or risk death for both of them. The worst part was the fear in Artie's eyes. Oh, he had to know that Jim would never actually kill him – he wouldn't even hurt him if he could help it! No, the fear wasn't for himself but for his partner.

 _If you don't kill me, you are as good as dead._

"I'm waiting, Mr. Riley."

"I never rush," Jim replied in as cold a voice as he could. "That's how I never miss."

He could see Artie swallow, even from across the room, and the sight of it made Jim sick. He knew his friend was preparing himself, in case dying was the only way to complete their mission, but Jim wouldn't let it come to that. He couldn't. He would turn the gun on himself before he would willing kill his partner. They had been in this very situation many times before; far too many times for him to let it end any differently.

Stalling for time, he turned his gaze from his captive partner and to the weapon he'd been given. A single shot, old-fashioned pistol. Not very accurate, which might have worked in his favor if the real Dalton Riley wasn't known as the greatest shot this side of the Mississippi. The gunman may not be a fast draw, but at this range, he couldn't miss if he was using a gumdrop in a slingshot.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Artie demanded, his voice steady. "Just do it already."

"You seem very eager to die," Jim commented, taking a step closer.

"What can I say," he half shrugged, shaking his left arm slightly. "My sleeve ran out of aces."

 _Message received loud and clear._

Jim wasn't sure what his partner – literally – had up his sleeve, but whatever it was, it was their only way out of here. Of course, that did mean he would have to break character, but it was a small price to pay for Artie's life. Taking careful aim, he pointed his pistol at his best friend's heart …

* * *

So? Like it? Hate it? Should I never attempt this again?

If - by chance - you don't hate it, let me know. While I marked this as a complete one-shot, I am considering adding a second chapter to show Artie's thoughts when he is given the impossible choice. (But only if you want me to.)


	2. Chapter 2

Hello, long tie no post.

So, I FINALLY graduated with my Bachelor's in English (Whoot!) and went almost immediately into a Master's program for teaching. (And I thought 15 credits took up all my time!)

Anyway, the depression came back when I got sick during my first two weeks and wasn't able to stay hold and take care of myself. (Te absent policy is brutal when you only have ten sessions a class.) I needed a pick me up and wrote this for all the people who asked for a continuation of this story.

I started typing hours after my bed time and still getting over being sick, so I apologize if it makes no sense, but I tried to be as coherent as possible. Namely I wrote it because I finally figured out what it was that Artie had up his sleeve. (I ended chapter 1 the way I did because I honestly didn't know what was coming next.) So instead of waiting until I was fully awake and had access to a beta, I whipped this up. (In my defense, the first one was written under the exact same circumstances ... just not quiet as long.)

This chapter is for my classmate Miguel who has been a great encouragement to me these last couple weeks and I'm going to wrap this up because I am starting to fade out.

Enjoy ...

* * *

Jim was a man of action. Artie had watched his rush into things time after time, barley escaping by the skin of his teeth – and all the little gadgets supplied by his genius partner. It always put Artie on edge every time Jim was off on his own, often only giving himself a split second to think up his plan. Still, even the ever-impulsive James West knew when it was best to slow down … like when he was ordered to shoot his partner.

This case had been wrong from the start and was getting worse by the minute. When Jim had first suggested that he go in as Dalton Riley, one of the worst contract killers they had ever had the pleasure of putting behind bars, Artie had thought he was insane – well, actually his first thought was "better him than me," but that was beside the point.

Their mission had bee to shut down a band of mercenaries lead by a former Confederate naval officer named Captain Sherwood Daley: a gentleman who made Dalton Riley look like a church mouse. Daley had it in his head that the war never ended, that the South was just biding time until they could gain their second wind. To help the cause, he was forming a band of pirates to attack and destroy every major seaport north of Virginia. This list included burning down Baltimore, Philadelphia, Boston, and New York. Naturally, the President had issue with this plan and sent him and Jim in to stop it.

Fine job they did.

Jim had barely managed to convince the group that he was an incarcerated killer – almost getting killed in the process – when Artie had gotten caught in Daley's storeroom. Since they were at least a few miles out to sea, it was a little hard for him to excuse himself with a "wrong turn" story. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that the one tasked with killing him was his partner.

They had both been in this situation, more times than Artie cared to remember. One ordered to kill the other to preserve their cover. He knew Jim hated it as much as he did. The man was like his brother and they just couldn't do that to each other – at least not permanently. Still, if his partner didn't kill him, Jim was as good as dead.

"I'm waiting, Mr. Riley," Daley said impatiently.

"I never rush," Jim replied in his patented cool tone, "that's how I never miss."

It was true enough, but that also meant that any slip of the gun would be easily spotted as intentional. Artie swallowed hard at the thought, which his captors no doubt took as a sign of terror. Jim must have too, based on the look of steel he gave him. It was killing him to be in this position and Artie knew all too well how he felt. There were times he had come way to close to killing Jim with only the timely intervention of another – usually a woman – sparing him the necessary slip-up that would spare his best friend's life. This time there would be no angel to swoop in and bat her eyes at the enemy, pleading for him to spare the captured agent's life. Their luck had finally run out and with only five minutes before those seven little incinerators he planted in the hold lit this place up like – wait, didn't he bring eight?

Shifting slightly, he felt last device still in its hiding place near his elbow. A little shake and he could probably drop it down to his palm … if his arm wasn't currently being bent by a pirate. He would have to send a message to Jim, somehow let him know that he had a plan. The best way to do that: tell him to shoot.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked, sounding as confident as he could to get the message across. "Just do it already."

"You seem very eager to die," Jim said, a slightly puzzled edge to his tone.

He stepped forward and gave the captive agent a pointed look.

 _What are you thinking?_

"What can I say?" Artie said, giving his arm a little shake. "My sleeve ran out of aces."

Jim gave him the briefest of nods before taking aim. The barrel of the old pistol was even with Artie's heart – for about three seconds. Just before pulling the trigger, Jim swiveled and shot the man holding Artie's arm. A moment later the device was in his hand and he was ready to set this ship a blaze.

Throwing the incinerator on the deck, there was a flash and flames began to spread across the wood. Pirates began running this way and that, some rushing to abandon the ship while others to tried putting out the fire, and in all the confusion Artie lost sight of Jim.

Fighting his own path between the panic and the smoke, he managed to spot the edge of a jacket going below decks. Hurrying after them, Artie made it the stairs as voices echoed up from below.

"Give it up, Daley!"

"Never! We shall prevail!"

The words were followed by gunshots and Artie quickened his pace. It was getting hot below decks as the fire spread above them. Reaching the doorway into the storeroom, he could see where Jim was pinned down under Daley's wild shots. Artie knew that it would be suicide for either of them to return fire: the whole room was filled with explosives, not to mention his incinerators. Any one of those things got hit and the whole ship would go up in seconds!

"Jim!" he yelled. "We gotta get out of here!"

"Working on it!" his partner called back.

Reviewing their situation, Artie prayed that this was one of the times that Jim came up with a split-second plan that pulled them out of the fire – literally! He barely had time to finish the thought before a stray bullet struck one of his incinerators.

The flash seemed to be a signal to Jim, because he jumped up and slammed into Artie. To startled to brace himself, the agent backpedaled up the stairs and onto the deck, but his partner didn't stop there. Using his forward momentum, Jim hauled the two of the right to the rail just as the center of the ship exploded. Artie was thrown into the water and struggled just to remember which way was up. When he finally broke the surface, he had to immediately dive down again to avoid a piece of burning sail. Swimming farther from the wreckage, he poped up a safe distance away and began to scan the area for his friend.

"Jim! JIM!"

"ARTIE!" came a distant reply.

He turned toward the sound and caught sight of an arm waving at him from a broken piece of deck. Making his way over, Artie was relieved to see his partner was alive – though the extent of the damage to both of them would have to wait until they were out of the water.

"You okay?" Jim asked, pulling himself higher on the plank.

"Oh sure," Artie muttered. "I love the taste of salt water in the morning."

"It's still a few hours until dawn."

"Close enough."

Jim chuckled and the two fell into silence, both just focusing on keeping their hesd above the water. Not that either of them were poor swimmers – quite the contrary – but getting blown up takes a lot out of a guy. Luckily, they were not far enough from port for people to have missed their rather intense firework display and within an hour both agents were comfortably warming themselves in the Captain's cabin aboard a Navy frigate, while the rest of the survivors were drying off in the brig.

"Jim, I have to know," Artie started, setting asaid his brandy. "What on Earth made you go down into that hold?"

"Well," he replied thoughtfully. "I had to make sure Daley didn't blow up the ship before we could get off."

"Really?"

"It worked, didn't it?"

Artie opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again as he really had no argument that would stick. Jim had gotten them off the ship – though there might debate regarding the timing – and in the end, it was another success. Granted, he was going to request a minimum of two weeks leave after this one and he knew Jim would back him up on it. Cases when they had to make the impossible choice were always the hardest and any one of them that they both walked away from was a reason to celebrate.

* * *

So, are you satisfied with the ending?

Let me know what you thing because I can rally use a kind word about now.


End file.
